A Perished Atmosphere
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: Dark!Layton. The most realistic stories are the ones of a madman.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own Professor Layton. And that sucks. **

**Welcome to my latest fic- A Perished Atmosphere. It says it's a Lost/Unwound Future AU... But it's kind of a massive AU. Of all of them. Sorta. **

**This fic will be containing quite a lot of OOC-ness, particularly with Claire. Which is a bit different for me, because those of you that know me, will know that I really, really, really love Claire to pieces. But I also really like dark!Layton.**

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**A Perished Atmosphere**

**Chapter One**

It was snowing.

London had never shed more tears than it had that night than ever before. Clive's fortress of doom had ripped up through the Thames and destroyed everything in its sight. The city had been filled with destruction and chaos; homes has been ripped up from the ground, lives had been lost and those that were left had nothing to do but weep. Ash had danced down from the sky, but now it wasn't ash. It was snow.

But none of that mattered. Not now that she was gone. Again.

The Professor looked up at the blackened sky. It was barely the evening, but never had it been so dark. His hat was off in public space for the first time in forever, the tufts of brown hair shivered in the wind, collecting snowflakes as they did so. Tears began to roll down his face, as he mourned the same person for the second time.

It angered him. Twice. Twice now had he lost the woman he loved. Twice now he failed in saving her. Twice.

"Uhm... Professor?"

Young Luke was standing ten feet behind him or so, his backup against the wall of the alley the Professor had led him to. He frowned deeply; he hated it when this happened. Luke was careful not to get himself in a worked up, panicky state. It was okay, he told himself. The Professor was safe... No matter what had been going on inside his head... The Professor was not dangerous... Was he?

"Professor?" Luke repeated himself, gritting his teeth as he bravely stepped forward.

It took the Professor another moment or so to adjust himself. He placed his top hat back on (he never was fully dressed without it) and turned himself around to face his "apprentice".

"Come along then, Luke," the Professor nodded, standing up straighter. He almost looked normal; he even forced a tiny smile. "Let's go home."

Luke nodded, clutching his brown satchel and beginning to march off towards where the Professor's car, the Laytonmobile (of course, it deserved a name), had been parked. The Professor shortly followed. Luke watched Layton as he glanced around the streets, furrowing his brow at the Professor's behaviour. With each step, the man seemed to wince, as if he'd stepped bare-foot on glass. He was shaking. Looking at the London streets, which were coincidentally rather quiet- this clearly was a sleepy part of London- Layton's eyes showed nothing but heartbreak. Never had the young boy seen him so sad.

-X-X-

"THAT'S IT!" Clark swung his fist down on the coffee table, sending the sound of a crash all through the Triton household.

Two gasps echoed in an aftershock after the ex-Mayor had erupted in anger, shortly followed by the sound of a newborn crying. Brenda, Clark's wife and Luke's and the newborn's Mother, looked up with a stern glare. The newborn, which lay in the brunette's arms curled up in a tight, linen blanket, continued to shriek at the sound of her Father's enraged yell. With a quiet sigh, Brenda began to rock the little one, her eyes switching between her daughter, her son, and her husband. Luke, who was indeed the son, glanced down at the floor with a saddened look on his face.

"Luke..." Brenda began softly. "Why don't you go and get ready for bed. I'll be in in a moment."

"But..." Luke began to try and protest.

"Do as your Mother says," Clark quickly instructed, as he sat down on the settee, his gaze just as stern as his voice.

"Fine..." Luke grumbled so quietly that he almost said nothing at all, before turning away and leaving for his room. It took a lot of effort to resist the the temptation to slam the door behind him.

Brenda watched with concerned eyes as her son left the room, before turning to face Clark, who was looking out of the window that opposed his seat. His face hadn't changed since he'd spoken; there was no way Brenda could chance his mind, but it had gotten to the point where she thought- no, knew- it was best that way. This had gone on for far too long now.

"Sorry," Clark finally said. His voice was rather hesitant; he was trying not to show his frustration, but it was impossible not to. "I didn't mean to startle Poppy."

Brenda bit her lip and looked back down at the infant. Her face poked out of the blanket to reveal the small, round face of the three week old baby. She certainly was beautiful. Even when she cried. However, her sobs were beginning to subside as she fell back to sleep, worn out.

"It's okay. I understand that Hershel is your friend," Brenda considered forcing a smile,but she didn't see the point. Not when things were in this deep. "It's been hard on him. And it's affected us. None of us, including Hershel, deserved any of this."

"And I brought my son into it..." Clark murmured in response. "It was selfish of me...I honestly thought it would help him."

Brenda took his hand (balancing the bundle against the arm of the settee with her other arm wrapped around Poppy) reassuringly. "We both did, love."

Clark sighed yet again. "There's no doubt about it, though. After what Luke said tonight; what happened with Hershel today... These hallucinations are getting more and more ridiculous every day. It's frightening Luke- it's obvious from the way he talks about it, that stutter in his voice..."

"I know," Brenda agreed. "But we can't refrain him from Luke. Both of them have created a bond. And I do think that Luke has helped him. I do think that he dragged out the process of Hershel's- err- deterioration."

"Perhaps... But you can't deny that it's gotten to the point where Hershel is... Well, a danger."

Brenda shut her eyes in dismay.

"It pains me to say it. I-it really does, but it is true, Brenda. You know it is as well as I do."

Brenda slowly opened her eyes, but turned away from her husband, making sure to keep her eyes on her daughter. After all, it was a completely natural thing to do.

"Yes. I agree that Hershel may no longer be safe..." her words were quiet, but they didn't need to be loud. "So, what do we do?"

"We move."

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**AN: Hope you enjoyed it! **

**Fyi, Poppy: I really think Luke would be a FAB big brother. So I may sometimes include Poppy in random fics from now on (sometimes I just love a headcanon so much I can't just stick with a one-shot about them)!**

**It would mean a lot if you took your time to write a review- even just a short one!**

**Nikki~~**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Right it's been ages since I've updated this fic, but it really is the hardest fic I have to write. So apologies about that... **

**Anyhow, hope you enjoy.**

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A Perished Atmosphere

Chapter Two

That night, Professor Hershel Layton tossed and turned in such a ferocious manner, the bed was shaking. He had always been a sufferer of bad dreams, but tonight it seemed to be worse than normal. In fact, the nightmares started before he'd fallen asleep; before his head had hit the pillow. His thoughts had been polluted with dark mist since that one, fateful day ten years ago. But now, right now, they'd never been this bad.

"Hello! Is anyone home?"

Hershel's eyes sprang open at the sound of that voice. It wasn't just any old voice... It was hers. It rang through the empty halls like a lost puppy; that voice hadn't echoed down those halls for years on end, and oh, how it had been missed. The Professor jerked awake and bolted upright, all within a second. That was always the effect she had on him.

At first, he thought her voice was just another illusion of his mind- another nightmare... But just as he was about to settle down back to sleep, there was the voice again. He didn't need to pinch himself to tell that he was awake.

"Hello?"

Her voice seemed to call down the corridor, being carried by nothing but air. There was no ghostly whisper of the wind along with it. Her voice sounded pure and alive; just how it had earlier, when she was alive again for such a short while. It was as if she was in the house... And was she...? Could she really be...? Given the events of earlier, it was most certainly plausible...

He jumped out of bed and out of his room, but not before forgetting his top hat. He didn't want to her to see him without the top hot that she had lovingly given him ten years ago. And so, he ran out into the hallway, holding tightly onto the rim of his hat so it wouldn't blow off in his rush.

"Claire?" The Professor cried out in desperation. "Claire...! Claire?!"

Sprinting through the dark hallways and turning on each light as he went through each room, Hershel continued to shout her name. Please... No. No, she _had _to be here. She wouldn't leave again, would she? That had definitely been her voice. That had been her voice in the house. She couldn't have gone again so quickly. Surely...

Within a minute, the Professor had searched every room in the house, he was so fast. The last room he burst into was the kitchen, and just like every other room in the house, it was empty. There had been no sign of an entry, either. All the doors and windows remained locked shut, just as they had been when the Professor went to bed that evening. Had it _really _been his own imagination? But it had seem so real...

It had seemed as real as everything else in his world.

-X-X-X-

Six hours later, Clark found the Professor curled up on the downstairs hallway in his top hat and pyjamas. The man appeared to be asleep, but it was hard to tell. He'd never been a snorer (he knew from their time at University together) and his head was leaning against the wall, and his top hat hiding his face from view. Clark sighed heavily and crouched down to his level.

"Hershel," Clark said firmly, placing his hand on his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake. "Hershel! Wake up!"

"Uhh..." Hershel mumbled, his eyes beginning to open. "Uhhh... Clark?"

Blinking his eyes open, Hershel looked up at his old friend drearily as he blurred into view. For the Professor, things were always in some sort of blurry haze, but always more so when he was waking up.

"Hershel, what are you doing down here?" Clark asked. It was hard for Clark to hide his anger, but it came from kindness. It came from where he had seen his friend deteriorate in such a severe way over so many years. He thought his heartbreak would heal. But no, it never had. Instead, it had caught hold of his mind and twisted and warped the world around him. It hurt him to see his best friend in such a way.

"I... I heard her v-voice..." Hershel stuttered as he rose to his feet. "I was looking-"

"Stop it, Hershel!" Clark snapped. "Stop it right now! Snap out of it, you're a grown man, for heaven's sake!"

Hershel froze in shock, his eyes dilated slightly as he looked on at Clark.

"Clark..." He began. He was rather confused as to what Clark was going on about. Understandably. After all, he didn't see what Clark did.

"Hershel, you heard me," Clark went on. "You need to stop this madness at once!"

"Clark, I don't understand..." Hershel absent-mindedly responded, his brow furrowing.

Clark sighed deeply. Of course. Of course, Hershel didn't understand. He couldn't solve the one puzzle that mattered now. The one staring him right in the face. Maybe the clues just weren't there, or perhaps he was ignoring them? Yes, that sounded right. He wanted to avoid reality. All along, Clark had been hoping that maybe there was one, tiny part of him that would make sense of it all. That would understand what Clark was talking about, and that then the pieces would be put together. Then, there would be an end to the madness. But, it appeared not.

"Hershel, perhaps we should go and sit at the table..." Clark gently ushered, pulling his friend into the dining room and almost forcing him to take a seat. Clark took one opposite him. "Hershel, last night, Luke told us some rather distressing things..."

"Yes! North Huldberry was completely destroyed!" Hershel exclaimed. "I did my best but many lives must still have been lost. Surely it's been on the news. Here's what happened-"

"Hershel, Hershel," Clark shushed holding up his hand to allow him to talk. "Please allow me. Last night, Luke told us that you saw Claire again."

"Yes, I did!" Hershel exclaimed. "Then during the night, she was here again..."

Clark sighed again. He had forgotten how difficult it was to deal with Hershel. He remembered how and why he'd stopped trying to convince him otherwise; it was for this exact reason. He had been stupid enough to think time would heal him. Oh, how selfish he sounded now. But just looking at Hershel made it so obvious how great the problem now was. His ideas and dreams only ever became more elaborate.

"Hershel," Clark began softly. "You know as well as I do, that it's impossible. Claire died in a fire at her workplace, when an experiment- which was on radioactive poly-molecules,not time travel- was not properly assessed for risks."

Hershel said nothing. He merely looked down and went silent. Clark began to wonder if he'd finally gotten through to him.

"Excuse me, Clark..." Hershel said, beginning to stand from his place at the table. "It's nearly half past seven. I must go and wake Flora for school."

Clark closed his eyes in frustration. Of course, it was too good to be true. It was Clark's time to excuse himself.

"Hershel, there was another reason I came here this morning," Clark said as he stood. "I came to let you know that I'm moving. Of course, Brenda, Poppy and Luke will be coming with me. We'll be leaving at the end of next week."

"And so Luke...?"

"Yes, I'm very sorry. So is Luke, of course..." Clark paused to collect himself. "Goodbye, Hershel."

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**AN: And now how we'll Dark!Layton get on without his apprentice?**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! **

**A review would make my day!"**

**Nikki~**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Review replies! **

**Girlycathy: **Thanks very much. There will definitely be more broken Hershel.

**Descole'sApprentice: **Thanks very much! :)

**The Mocking J: **Thanks very much! As an AU, it's kinda hard to have this story include no OOC, but I still tried to limit it for Clark as much as I could, and based his angry outburst on this withdrawal from Luke during Spectre's Call/Last Specter.

**Thanks very much guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

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A Perished Atmosphere

Chapter Three

Professor Layton remained at his dining room table a long time after Clark had left. He simply stared up and over at the wall, though there was nothing interesting to look at. He occupied himself with his thoughts and memories, instead. After all, he did have so many. The first time he met Luke (not including when he was an infant) and the discovery of the Golden Garden; the joy he felt when Randall turned out to be, miraculously, after all these years alive; the short reunion with his brother; the adoption of Flora Reinhold. And now he had gained even more memories: those few seconds longer with Claire. They weren't much, but they were something.

It wasn't until Layton heard the newspaper fall through the letterbox, that he stood up and left the kitchen. He would read the morning paper with a cup of tea, as he always would.

After fetching the newspaper, he sat back down in the same seat and looked at the front page.

_Bill Hawkes To Return To His Seat As Prime Minister_

Of course, that would be how it happened. The Government kept its secrets from the citizens. The Prime Minister's disappearance had been falsely publicised from the beginning. His temporary resignation from his seat in Downing Street had been due to his disappearance- the Professor had seen it with his very own eyes! Instead, the English media publicised this by stating that Hawkes had been caught stealing tax money for his own benefit. How ridiculous. And now, he would be put straight back into power. Even after all he had done; all he had taken.

The most absurd part, however, Layton notice as he flicked through the newspaper to get to know the headlines, was that Clive's attack was not at all mentioned. Just like when Claire had died. The media was completely silent on the matter. It was despicable.

It was the way of the world, in which he lived in.

The Professor sighed in frustration, as he pushed the paper aside and then made his way upstairs. There had been no other letters- no requests for help in solving mysteries or puzzles of any type- and so he thought now would be a good time to check on Flora. He made his way upstairs and gently knocked on her bedroom door before he entered.

The room was empty.

The Professor frowned in confusion, before realising that it was a weekday and Flora had schoolto attend. Additionally, it was half past ten! The Professor of archaeology had not even noticed the time. His adopted daughter must have made her way downstairs and off to school whilst the Professor had been busy contemplating. That had happened multiple times before. Surely, Flora would be used to it by now.

He rolled his eyes at his own actions, and closed the door just as he heard someone knock at the front door. He wondered who it would be. Inspector Chelmey, perhaps? Maybe he needed a statement from him about the events that had occurred in 'Future' London and Clive's fortress attack. That seemed to be the most likely scenario.

However, as the Professor opened the front door, he was greeted with a familiar face that was not Inspector Chelmey's. It was a woman. A woman in a green trench coat and a pink bow tie. The Professor had blink when he set eyes on her, as her hair had changed. The last time he had seen her, her brown hair had been long, thick and wavy, but was now much shorter and much straighter; only coming down to her chin. But it definitely was...

"Emmy Altava..."

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**AN: Hope you guys enjoyed it! Now what will Emmy reveal to Layton? **

**Reviews are great. :)**

**Nikki~**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Review replies! **

**Descole's Apprentice: **Thank you very much! I hope you enjoyed your holiday, and here's what happens with Emmy, for you now.

**Also, heads up, this is the penultimate chapter. :) (Mental illness trigger warnings: schizophrenia and PTSD)**

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A Perished Atmosphere

Chapter Four

"Emmy Altava..."

"It certainly is, Professor Layton," Emmy nodded, as she pulled her camera bag (that she still seemed to be carrying with her to this day) over her shoulder. Out of the top, the Professor could see the wires of a notebook, with a ballpoint pen attached, sticking out. Emmy had always liked to take notes during their cases together; that must have been where Luke had gotten it from. That had never occurred to him until now. "I believe you're in need of my services again."

"A gentleman is always in need of an assistant, Emmy," The Professor smiled warmly and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come inside. "Please, come in. I'll brew some tea."

"Thank you," Emmy nodded gratefully and then stepped inside. "Tea's not necessary, Professor Layton. However, I would appreciate it if we sat down and had a chat. It's been a while since I last saw you and I'm sure you have a lot to tell me."

The Professor froze for a moment. His long gone assistant was seeming rather harsh and blunt, as if she didn't want to be there. And for Emmy to turn down tea. The idea was absurd! The old Emmy would never have denied a cup of tea, at least not to his memory. Besides, she definitely was rather different to how he remembered her to be- and not just because her hair had changed. She was much... Stiffer. The way she walked: it wasn't as regimented as a soldier but nothing like the care free and energetic assistant he had once knew. She was now much more formal and professional, you could say. Just what had gone on in the past two years to cause such a dramatic change?

He couldn't help but stare at her, as he followed her into the dining room, to sit down at the dining table, in the exact seats that himself and Clark had sat in that morning. He was intrigued as Emmy sat down; she'd lost the bounce in her steps and the frantic energy bursts that seemed to appear in every movement.

"So then," Emmy began as soon as she took her seat. "What's happened since we last met, Professor Layton."

"Well," Layton shuffled his seat towards the table. He pulled it so close that when he inhaled, his torso brushed against the wooden edge. "That's a rather big question, to be honest, Emmy. I don't quite know where to begin with that."

"Start at whatever point you feel is the best," Emmy replied. "It could be from right at the beginning- right after I resigned- or the part you feel is most important."

The Professor shivered in his seat, with the sudden feeling that he was being interrogated. Stranger still, he found the situation to be rather similar. As if he'd sat down at this very table with Emmy before and had a similar conversation... But, no, of course not. That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. He was just imagining things, he must have been. Of course, it was the only possible explanation.

"I suppose... Well, I suppose the most important and the biggest thing to have happened is that I adopted a girl named Flora just over a year ago," The Professor began. "Yes, it must have been about five to six months after you left that Flora came along."

"Really now?" Emmy's eyes widened slightly, and she folded her arms on the table, leaning over him slightly.

"Yes..." Hershel nodded rather nervously. He couldn't help but feel rather intimidated by this, as if Emmy were patronizing him. He tried to shake it off- the idea itself was ridiculous!- but he couldn;t quite brush it under the table.

"And how did you meet Flora, Professor?" Emmy questioned. "What made you decide to adopt her?"

"Oh, I met Flora on an investigation," Hershel replied, a smile forming on his face at the thought of his adopted daughter. "It's a rather interesting story, if I do say so myself, but you can't tell a soul. You see, I received a letter from a woman named Lady Dahlia, who lives in the village St. Mystere- it's a while out from London, and not very well known, so I doubt you've heard of the village. Anyhow, in the letter, Lady Dahlia asked that I were to solve a riddle left in her late husband, Baron Augustus Reinhold's, will. His will offered the whole of his estate and wealth to whomever could successfully locate the Reinhold family treasure: the Golden Apple. It turned out that the 'Golden Apple' was in fact, his daughter, Flora Reinhold. More interestingly, everyone in the village was a fully-functioning robot. They were being maintained by a man named Bruno; him and Flora were the only humans in the village. Naturally, Flora wanted to leave St. Mystere after that, and explore more of the world. And so I adopted her."

"I see," Emmy nodded, "And, where is Flora now?"

The Professor was rather taken a back by this. Emmy showed no element of surprise at all; no raised eyebrows, no gasps of shock; not even a question to clarify or have a part of the story elaborated on. He put it down to the fact that perhaps Emmy was far too intrigued to meet Flora. That was plausible, wasn't it?

"Flora would be at school," The Professor replied. "After all, it's gone ten o'clock in the morning on a weekday."

"Ah, of course," Emmy said, glancing at the clock behind her. "My mistake. Now, perhaps you could tell me-"

"Ah, no, you've heard enough about me. Please, tell me what you've been doing these past two years. And, why of all days do you decide to return? I'm most interested."

"Why am I here today?" Emmy repeated. "I had a phone call from your friend, Mr Clark Triton, about an hour ago. He said that you needed my help urgently, Professor Layton."

Hershel frowned, his nose wrinkling against his narrowed eyes and pursed mouth. That made no sense whatsoever. Clark had been fuming with frustration when he had visited that morning, but how would calling Emmy and asking for her assistance... Well, what exactly would that do? Had Clark done this out of spite? That was rather out of character for the man, but then again, this morning had been nothing but unusual for Clark. Then again, even if he had done this as an act of anger, what would it achieve exactly?

Emmy spotted the look of confusion on the Professor's face and reached into her camera bag and withdrew a small piece of card. A business card, it looked like. She kept it facing her chest and hidden from the Professor's view. He glanced down at it curiously.

"Professor Layton, do you remember our relationship? How we came to know each other, tell me what that was, would you?" Emmy requested.

"Well... You were once my assistant," The Professor replied, a nagging sensation within him that he was giving the wrong answer.

"That was what you believed us to be, yes," Emmy said. "You believed that you were my employer, but that was one of the many lies you told yourself."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand-"

Emmy placed the card on the table, so the Professor could see what it said.

_Doctor Emmeline Altava_

_Clinical Psychiatrist_

"You... You've become a psychiatrist since we last met?" The Professor began.

"No," Emmy shook her head rather calmly. "No. Professor Layton, I was your psychiatrist for three years. I left after you remembered your childhood. I assumed the kidnapping of your parents and the murder of your older brother, which you were unfortunate enough to witness at a very young age, was what caused the trauma to result in your mental instability. Unfortunately, I was wrong, and left you far too soon."

"I... I-" Hershel tried to say. His face had gone white. Memories and images, of what must have been what Emmy was referring to, started to flash before his eyes. He blinked them away, and they went away far too quickly than expected. It was if he had done the action many times before.

"Please, Professor, let me explain," Emmy firmly instructed. "You see, when we first met, we travelled to the town of Misthallery. There, we met Clark and Luke. I'd recently been assigned to you, after your previous psychiatrist, Doctor Rosa Hufferman, retired, and so I was just learning about you first hand. It was clear from the beginning that you suffered from severe mental instability, which both me and Doctor Hufferman concluded to be a severe case of schizophrenia, caused by post-traumatic stress disorder. You seemed to turn everything around you into some form of reality that worked in your favour. You believed that Doctor Hufferman was your cleaner and housekeeper, whereas you believed me to be your assistant. You continued this fantasy for a long time. In fact, you still believe to this day, that I was your assistant. I assume there's times you've suspected otherwise, but you were so desperate to stay safe in your own world- your own story- that you simply pushed those thoughts away."

"You... You said you thought that this was caused by my parents and brother..." The Professor began. His voice shook. The world that had been constructed so beautifully and perfectly by his own mind was crumbling down around him.

"Yes, that was my original thought," Emmy nodded. "You see, after I learnt of your friend Randall, who fell to his death, you felt remarkably guilty. You took us near your home town of Stansbury and imagined that he had come back alive, and that his death had been a mistake. You also thought we- you, me and Luke- were in some sort of great city. We were in the middle of a desert."

"But, Randall..."

"And then you took us to this cave down at the South Coast of England," Emmy went on. "You believed that you were going to learn more about the Azran Civilisation. We- once again, me, you and Luke- saw nothing but caves. But you spoke of and to others, as if you were telling us one half of a story. But there was no one there but us the entire time. There, you told me that you had taken your older brother's name when you were adopted by the Laytons. It was miraculous that you remembered that. And you began to improve over the next few weeks. You spoke of nothing that no one else couldn't see for a month. And so I discharged you, you could say."

"But..."

Emmy- No, Doctor Altava's- words were rather monotonous. She told the story with barely any emotion. She was laying the facts down bare. That was what a psychiatrist did, he supposed.

"Yes, there is a but," Doctor Altava nodded. "When Clark rung me earlier this morning, he told me all the stories that you had told Luke, and that Luke had then gone on to tell his Father. You just told me about Flora Reinhold; a girl you adopted. But she never existed. You took Luke to a field and were adamant that you were in the village St. Mystere. Similarly, you later took him to an abandoned train station and told him he was in the town of Folsense. It was today, though, that confirmed the truth behind your illness, Professor Layton."

"You... You mean, Claire, don't you?" The Professor said. His voice had dropped quiet. Around him lay thousands of shards of glass.

Emmy nodded. Her mouth curved into a slight smile.

"I imagined you'd put the pieces together yourself soon enough," The psychiatrist nodded. "You may not have solved as many great puzzles as you think you have, but you made them up. That takes enough intellectual ability up."

"When Claire died in the explosion you think-"

"No," Doctor Altava shook her head. "No, Professor. Claire did die, but not in any type of explosion. Nor did she return last night, and nor was there any type of an attack on London. According to Luke, the two of you spent the day running around a deserted street in Baldwin."

"But... If Claire didn't die in an explosion..."

"I'm sure you can answer that question yourself," Doctor Altava answered. "Think hard, now."

The Professor squeezed his eyes shut as he dug up memories that he had tried so hard to forget- no, cover up... But to no avail. Altava had expected as much. After all, this was thinking back to the day when all this had began. The epicentre of the most destructive earthquake known to any man.

"Professor Layton, Claire died the day you were presented with that title," Altava told him. "She was on her way to work in a rush because she had lost track of time when congratulating you on your professorship. The research facility she worked at was only a few streets away, so it was quicker to run than to catch a bus. She turned a sharp corner and ran straight into a road, where a car hit her, and Claire died almost instantly."

And then, Professor Hershel Layton's world burnt to a crisp, caved in and shattered into pieces all at once. He was left with nothing but the cold, lonely and perished atmosphere that was the reality, that he had ignored for ten, long years.

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**AN: Oooookey, so like I said, folks: the next chapter shall be the last. **

**Reviews are grand and make my day! **

**Nikki~**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Review replies!**

**Just. : **Thanks for reviewing! :) I was pretty proud of this idea when I came up with it, thank you! :)

**Descole'sApprentice: **Thanks for your review! :) And here is the final chapter for you now! :)

**Abitat Eco: **Thank you, Abbie! Well, any time Layton would have been told, he would have ignored, forgotten (possibly forced to forget) or denied their statement, due to his mental instability. I tend to skip over small things like that, sorry!

**The Mocking J: **Thanks for the review! And, yeah, you'll get a happy ending. I couldn't leave it with Layton's destruction.

**Now, please enjoy le final chapter of _A Perished Atmosphere..._(Oh and some of the lines in this are taken from the after credits scene of Lost/Unwound Future. Which I don't own.)**

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A Perished Atmosphere

Chapter Five

The sun was shining.

The Professor stood on a dock on the South of England, ready to say goodbye to another one of the faces of his life... And the sun was shining, when just days ago, it was snowing. It seemed strange to him, too, at the time, that it was snowing in the late Spring, but now it made perfect sense. Before, he was not ready for the sun, but now, he would let it shine on him.

The Professor smiled, as he looked up. He had not felt many things for such a long time, and that included true happiness. The sensation he felt when he saved, discovered and investigated what ever he thought he was now seemed so peculiarly frail. Even the emotions he had felt occur for the pats ten years, they were nothing but his imagination, too, it would seem. He wouldn't describe his current feeling to be happiness- content, maybe- but it had been so long since he felt so real and, to be frank, alive that he was the happiest he could ever remember being. If this was what it was like to live properly, then what would the days, weeks, months and years that would follow hold? After all, this was almost the beginning of his life again.

Of course, it hadn't been easy after Doctor Altava had broken the news that had in turn broken his own world. In all honesty, it still wasn't. His mind was still trying to trick him, turn him back to the sweet looking glass that he hid himself behind, but he was finding ways to fight it- though he had yet to learn to ignore it. But his grasp of reality was firmer and much more stabler. In fact, Doctor Altava had taken back her last diagnosis of schizophrenia, since his improvement of mental health was occurring too rapidly to be a branch of schizophrenia. Instead, she'd decided that his delusions were due to the build-up of trauma that he had experienced during his lifetime; the kidnapping of his parents; the death of his best friend; and the death of the love of his life. After all, just one of those events were enough to make one's life traumatising enough, but for all three? Why, it was perfectly understandable. He was terrified of ever experiencing any grief ever again, and so he had placed himself in a world of his control, so that he never would.

Now, however, the Professor was realising that he would much rather live in the real world. It had been ten years since he last had, and now that he was taking his first few steps he realised that he was finally ready to do so. This was not to say that he was over everything, it troubled him deeply... But he had accepted his unfortunate events and no longer needed his façade.

He looked up in time to see a young boy approaching him, and he smiled warmly. He would be saying goodbye to someone very important today, but he wasn't sad to do so. He needed a fresh start to gather his life together, and the boy did to. It was also time for him to say goodbye to the Professor's illusion.

"Professor Layton..." Luke began as he looked up at him. He kept his blue cap tilted over his face, as if to block the bright sun from his face, but really he was hiding his quivering lip and teary eyes from the Professor.

"Hello, Luke," The Professor nodded. "Are you all ready? Your ship departs soon."

"Yes, all the luggage is onboard... We're just waiting for the passengers to be allowed on, now," Luke replied, keeping his eyes down towards the ground. It wasn't much of a puzzle to the Professor, he knew that Luke was rather sad to go. He was,however, surprised when Luke lifted his face and looked him in the eye. "I don't understand why we have to go."

"Well-"

"We were going to go before because Mum and Dad didn't want me to go places with you. They thought it was dangerous..."

"And-"

"But you're not now. Well, I don't think you ever were dangerous," Luke protested, refusing to let his mentor (no matter what, he would always be his apprentice, just like he'd always insisted upon) get a word in edgeways. "You're better now, though. So why do we still have to go?"

There was a rather angry tone in the young apprentice's words, which surprised Layton greatly. Luke's sentiment to him was both flattering and reassuring, however the Professor almost found it to be worrying. He'd exposed the child to his imaginations and though he'd technically never put him in danger, he felt guilty to know that he'd spent so much time with the boy when he wasn't even sane. Surely, Luke hadn't of deserved that.

Clark and Brenda had admitted that they felt the Professor was safer with Luke, and that he would help him find his grasp on reality, but it was clearly now nothing but wishful thinking. It had always been clear to the Professor that Luke was a thoughtful and generous young gentleman, but even so, his mental stability should not have been put down to him, no matter how mature Luke was.

"Luke," The Professor began, finding it hard to sustain a balance between a firm and gentle tone and expression. "I do think it's best if you go."

Luke merely gasped, not even being able to say a word in response. This allowed the Professor t4o explain his reasons further.

"We're still firm friends, of course," The Professor assured, crouching down to the boy's height and placing a hand on his shoulder. "And I am extremely grateful for how much you've supported me these past few years, but it's time for a fresh start. For both of us."

"Will I... Will I see you again?" Luke asked. He appeared rather hesitant in asking this, as if he feared the answer.

"But of course." A smile spread across the Professor's face as he replied. "Besides, this is not goodbye, this is so long."

(The Professor was not yet ready for another goodbye.)

There was a sudden and rather loud honk from the soon departing ship, which made those waiting by the dock jump in fright. Not a second after, was there the sound chains rattling, followed by a thump as the wooden bridge that allowed passengers to board the ship hit the ground of the dock. The Triton's ship was now boarding.

"Luke!" A voice from about fifteen feet away called, although it sounded fainter due to the crowds on the coast. Both the Professor and Luke looked over to see Clark, Luke's Father and the Professor's oldest friend, calling over and waving his arm up in the air to catch their attention- just in case he couldn't be heard over the sound of the ships and the crowd.

"Well, then, so long, Luke," The Professor said, standing up straight and tipping his hat in a farewell bid, and holding out his hand.

"Uh..." Luke paused in reluctance, but composed himself. He copied the Professor's position and gripped onto his hat, then also held out his hand and shook it. "So long, Professor Layton."

"Luke!" His Father called again.

There was much more that could have been said, but it felt wrong to say anything more now that there farewells had been given. Instead, the two exchanged a small, final nod. Then, Luke ran off towards his Father, ready to embark on his own adventures.

The Professor glanced up and watched Luke trail away, until he disappeared into the crowds. Just as Luke did so, he caught Clark's stare. Though there had been a so long between the Professor and Luke, neither of the men felt that there was one needed between them. After all, Clark doubted the Professor was ready for any more goodbyes. And so, they exchanged a nod, much like The Professor and Luke, as well as a small smile. Both their life's could now travel in safer, different directions.

The Professor waited until the ship departed from the dock before he left. Even when the ship had began its journey, he watched it make its way down the channel, and even when it had disappeared into the horizon, the Professor remained. He glanced across the shining sea bed and felt the sun on his face. He really never had felt so alive.

Even just to look out at the sea and the sky was so incredibly refreshing, the Professor almost didn't want to leave. He couldn't move his eyes away from the scenery that surrounded him, as he realised that the whole world was still there, just where it had been when he left it those ten years ago. He remembered what he was like back then; determined; intrigued; prepared. He had been so desperate for the adventures to come to him, that he had made up his own. But now? Now, he was ready to find and face his own, true adventures.

And that was exactly what he did next.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for all your reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed the final chapter! (I'm really surprised I've finished it actually. Like. Whut.) Anyhow, I will post a new story soon, too, now that this one's finished. And I hope you enjoyed _A Perished Atmosphere. _A final review would be great. :) **

**Nikki~**


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